


i'll make it up to you

by abeebumbling



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: (gestures) its about the hands, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:01:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23391388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abeebumbling/pseuds/abeebumbling
Summary: (thinks about how touch starved Martin must have been during s4) you could make a fic out of this!
Relationships: Jonmartin - Relationship, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 14
Kudos: 196





	i'll make it up to you

Once Martin becomes elusive, Jon finds that it’s easier to bump into him by accident than on purpose. It doesn’t mean he stops trying, though it’s often halfhearted because of Martin’s unexpectedly dry reprimands. But Martin had perfected the art of dodging Jon (and all other staff for that matter). Sometimes Jon’ll see him round a corner but as soon as he hurries over he’s gone like the wind. He lingers by the kettle, sipping slowly at bitter tea (he always leaves the teabag in too long, ugh) but soon he stops because the fruity brands only Martin likes seem to stay untouched.

When he needs to leave his office he purposefully marches in front of Martin’s desk as many times as possible. He even peeks into Peter’s office once or twice. That has an even lower probability of working, he knows. Peter Lukas seems to have a sixth sense for when people approach. Probably actually does. Bastard.

He’d tried again that very day though but the day had now ended and he needed to get home. He reluctantly put his coat on to leave the archives and started dragging his feet towards the door. And he barrels straight into someone, sending some files falling to the floor in a flurry of paper.

“Ah, sorry, I didn’t see you Martin- Martin!”

Martin jumps and looks at him blinking as though he just realised he was there.

“Oh.” He doesn’t exactly sound pleased. “Hi, Jon.” He gives a curt nod, and turns his attention to the papers on the floor, bending down and shoving them in the wrong files in a very obvious hurry to leave.

Jon wants to grab his wrists, tell him to stop, to sit down, to drink his ridiculous ‘Raspberry Rosehip Indulgence’ tea. But he’s distracted by how terrible Martin looks, his hair drooping pathetically, overgrown on his tense shoulders. He looks like he hasn’t seen the sun in a bit, squinting in the fluorescent light of the archive. Jon gets on his knees, on the pretense of helping gather the papers, but just does it to get a closer look. Martin’s eyes are red and painfully puffy.

“Oh Martin, what’s wrong?”

And he doesn’t, he really doesn’t mean to, but as soon as the words leave his mouth he knows the Watcher is looming right behind them, desperate for something out of one of these rare, rare interactions. 

“I haven’t made physical contact with anyone for weeks,” Martin blurts. He blinks, mouth agape in surprise for just a moment. Then his face hardens in a way Jon had never seen before his return after the Stranger’s ritual. “For Christ’s sake Jon.” He sounds more embarrassed than irritated and that makes the tightness in Jon’s chest loosen just a little bit. It seems like Martin hasn’t completely given to the Lonely, not if he cares what Jon thinks.

“I didn’t want to, I really didn’t, it just happens occasionally,” he says quickly. “I’m sorry, alright?”

Martin rolls his eyes as he takes the few papers from Jon’s hands, brushing their fingers together as he did. He sees Martin pause, just for a split second, his eyes focusing through their now usual fog, as though imprinting the moment to his memory. Jon can’t get over how hungry his face looked in that instant. Starved. The moment passes, Jon’s hands still outstretched and Martin’s clutching the folders tightly to his chest.

“Jon?”

“Yes?”

“If you can’t control it, please don’t talk to me. Please.”

“I…” The sigh comes out of his mouth, heavy and familiar. “Alright.”

“Thank you.” It’s hollow. “Good night, then.”

“Good night, Martin.”

\- - -

The interaction is burned into Jon’s brain. He thinks about it the first time Martin leans against him on the couch in Daisy’s safe house. He thinks about when he’s dragged outside on a walk, Martin holding his hand so tightly he leaves red crescent imprints of his nails. He thinks about it when Martin’s sleep is a restless one and the first thing he does when he wakes up is wrap his arms around Jon’s waist, burying his face in his neck. 

He thinks about it a lot.

Even now, sitting on the couch, watching a movie, Martin traces circles on the back of Jon’s hand and seems too entraced by it to pay any attention.

“Martin?”

“Mm?” He’s still looking down at his hand. Jon uses his other hand to cup his face, making him look up and immediately Martin’s attention is all on him, his hand going to the one Jon has on his cheek, a smile on his lips. He laughs, soft and gentle. “Yes Jon?”

“I…” He falters. He seems so happy right now, Jon’s not sure he should dampen the mood. Talking about that time always seemed to make Martin…sad to put it lightly, the old fog returning to his eyes. They’d talked through it a lot, accompanied by late night cups of herbal tea and boxes of tissues ready for tears. “It’s nothing. I’m just glad you’re here.”

“Me too.” And Martin sighs, a happy sound of relief and contentment. “Me too, Jon.”

Martin squeezes his hand. The interaction plays out in Jon’s head again but he waves it away. He squeezes back and pulls Martin into a kiss, making him squeak with surprise before dissolving to giggles. It didn’t matter right now. He was going to make up for all the lost time, starting now.


End file.
